the hunter...chapter seven sneak peak

Sethron had knew for days that he was being tracked, just small signs that gave it away, There would be an unexplained dust cloud behind him or he would glimps firelight on some nights. But Sethron didn't know who was following him, why, or how many there were. He made sure to cover his tracks and backtrack occasionally to throw them off, but it never failed; the signs, they were always there, he couldn't help but notice them.
the sun always seemed to rise up higher in the desert. It was dangerously hot, Sethron was feel the full force of the heat wave under his layers of garments. At night the temperature plummeted to a chilling below zero, so he had to dress heavy.
that night, the wind changed direction and blew in from the north. Sethron sat south of the campfire he had built from small twigs and part of a dead tree, sheilded from the wind. One of the great mysteries of the desert, is that no matter where the wind came from, fires always flickered to the west as if wind from the east was blowing it. Sethron had heard many legends of the desert- this being one of them- and he was still suprized by the evedence, Because no sooner had he sparked up a fire then the little flame pointed humbly to the west when without a doubt the wind was blowing harshly from the north.

when i knew i wanted to be a writer.

I knew that I wanted to be a writer in February of 2011. I didn’t want to write just a fun story here and there but a novel. It was a nice day and fairly windy, I was outside at church preserving the setting that I now describe to you, in my mind. I watched the wind and how it brushed through the trees, and tried to see the depth in it; I tried to describe it. Then, I pulled out my phone and typed seven words that started this wild fantasy novel, now standing 23 pages and climbing. “The wind blew in from the East…”

          That day, I set out to dominate my own mid-evil world with chaos and shadows, then those shadows would fade and be dominated by light. As I wrote, my imagination folded over my stress and my depression. My fictional story shielded me from my life story, and now daydreaming is an occupation, rather than a habit.

          I wrote slowly, and started showing my work to my friends, family, and to my language teacher Mrs. Lowry. A couple months after that, I was progressing to the sixth chapter and my mom wanted me to email me what I have of my book so she can send it to some writer I had never heard of. So my mom sends the first six chapters to Charles W. Sasser, the top writer in Oklahoma, and he saw potential in the plot and story. He liked my writing and he was very supportive. He invited me to his ranch where he showed me his used bookstore he calls a library. He then showed me his office where he writes and gave me a lot of helpful tips that I find myself constantly referencing. He gave me a book he wrote, “Magic Steps to Writing Success” this helped me realize that I wanted to be a writer, and why I did.

          For my birthday, his son and my moms dance instructor, Darren, gave me an ipad so I can write in my room. It came with a case and a keyboard. I’m getting back into the habit of writing and I have almost finished the sixth chapter to my book, “The Hunter.” I also have created a blog that I have part of the prologue to my book and other poems I wrote, and I am really thankful for all the support I have gotten from my friends, family, and teachers…

Just hang on.

Tears, running down your face,
And unlocking your hearts to
Finish the race.

Blood, gambling for your soul,
And cushioning carnality to
Keep you unwhole.

Love, distracting death, with
It's beautiful malice that
Protects your last breath.

Screams, pure but cracked,
That hide from fear while
Your faith is attacked.

A sneak peak to The prequel to my book, the hunter.

A small cloud parted in the night sky to excuse the moons late night appearance. Then the stars awoke with a twinkling gleam, assuring the nights presence, and stared at the moons surface.
trees are noble folk, but at night they are frozen wolves. Packs of these ravenous splinters were clustered on the silent hills of Naelkrad. A thin line of dark woods trailed toward the limits of the Naelkrad kingdom and united with the darklean forest as their shadows grew to giants.
One shadow stood for itself and it departed, walking as one form toward the castle with evident pride in it's mission. Then a mist flew in, grabbing desperately to the thin icy breeze blowing in from the east. It shrouded the figure entirely until it disappeared into the cloudy ambiance...

Time suspended.

The walls of time are tested by the limits of outer space,
Cut off from all reality this miracle takes place,
A small inclosed domain that is the shadow of the sun,
The outline of the galaxies where galaxies begun,
The thunder before lightning,
Beginning after end,
With a never ending height,
And no bottom to begin,
An empty realm of darkness,
A black hole hidden in shadow,
A heavy force, a dreamy bliss,
A scary but hopeful hallow.
A dry cloud covered in a moisturizing cloak,
An untouched hand of shrouded heat,
With an icy cold stroke,
Time, suspended.

What does it men for your eyes to glaze?
When your arms fall down with your head not raised.
Is this a plague that comes and stays?
Is death a disease that only betrays?

If god sets your heart ablaze,
Will only your heads and hands then raise?
Will your carnal spirit play your game?
Will your heart stay exactly the same?
Or will you fall in love with the God above
And cover your face with shame?

With a blistered soul and a tampered heart,
Can you proudly say till death do I part?
Ask yourself, 'is this for real?
Is this my sacrifice to seal the deal?'
So as you go to a place to kneel,
Remember the promise that's given to you,
Receive the power,
Remain true.

You see The nature of my love.

Every time a lily sighs
The smell of spring
does all but dies,
And a fox as sly
As a dragon fly,
Can't take away
the spring in your eyes.

What falls in autumn,
Will jump in spring,
And the tumbling leaves,
Will bring up trees,
Like a knife that cuts
Through open air,
I feel your eyes,
But not your stare.

Just as the man on the moon,
Has hung on and still can,
I will always love you
With all that I am.